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Grimleal's Wrath

A Fire Emblem: Awakening Story

By TwiliRupee

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Prologue

An Ill Presence

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Battle was met.

The Sorcerer stood atop a hill, looking down on his army of undead. They were battling the Shepherds, a group of Naga-worshiping do-gooders. They had accompanied the one who had slayed Grima three years ago in an unprecedented turn of events. The Sorcerer smirked half-heartedly. With Grima dead for good, the Grimleal cult had no purpose other than causing misery to the victors. Somehow, they managed to maintain their numbers, despite the massive loss of members at the fell dragon's defeat. They had enough, though, to pose an honorable threat to any nation, and the forces of back-up Risen certainly helped.

Yet the defeat did have some pleasure. The Grima-slayer had died with the fell dragon, a just reward in the Gimleal's mind. Since the day Grima had died, the Sorcerer had been making life harder on Ylisse's leaders, attacking towns, causing mayhem, and generally wasting their time. It was, in the end, their fault that the Grima-slayer didn't follow his destiny.

But enough of that. The Sorcerer focused back on the battle, and noted that Ylisse's Exalt and his wife were among the Shepherds. He mentally directed his strongest Risen – two of the roughest looking berserkers the Sorcerer had ever seen – toward the Exalt's position. Hopefully they would take down the meddling son of Naga, or, at the very least, cause massive damage. He gave the order to the rest of the Risen to push harder and split the Ylissean line, smirking once more in victory as the Risen succeeded.

He was so focused on this that he didn't notice the figure appear among the trees on the opposite hill and join the Shepherds. It was a few minutes later when he was alerted to the presence of the new comer by a huge and deadly bolt of thoron magic that split the air. Thunder boomed over the battlefield. The Risen chief that had been attacking the Exalt was felled in that single bolt, the other having been miraculously re-killed moments earlier by the Ylissean queen.

The Sorcerer scrambled to find the source of the devastating magic, and zeroed in on the newcomer, who was helping the Exalt to his feet. It was the Grima-slayer, returned from the dead. The Grimleal growled out a frustrated expletive and left the remaining Risen to fend for themselves. There was no way any of them would survive with Ylisse's famous tactician on the battlefield.

Instead, he tried to figure out a way to take revenge on the Grima-slayer. He knew the man had a wife and two daughters…but they were well guarded, and the wife and older child were far from novice warriors. Everyone had their weaknesses, and the Grima-slayer's family was no exception. He studied the Shepherd ranks. Perhaps there was one among them, should the wife and daughters come to a dead end in usefulness.

A young woman near the back caught his eye. This was the one who had been giving out orders to her companions. She was also the Grima-slayer's older daughter. He moved along the hill, studying the young woman, trying to recall the details about her. She was a time traveler, one of the thirteen that had come from the future in which Grima was thriving. An idea was slowly forming in his mind. Could this young woman carry Grima's blood, just as the Grima-slayer once did? Could he take her and make her one of them, or better yet, possibly bring forth her heritage of the fell dragon? She wouldn't be easy to capture, but figured there was a way.

The idea was a savory one. He would have to watch her, gain her weaknesses and strengths. He would also bring it up with his fellow Grimleal. While they looked up to him as their leader, high priest, and successor to the greatest Grimleal in history, Validar, he still sought tactical advice from them. They would help him figure out the best way to put his idea into a plan.

And who knew? If the woman was a failure, he could always go for her younger self…

A ragged cheer rose from the valley, bringing the Sorcerer's attention back to it. The Shepherds had won, and everyone was crowding around the Grima-slayer, greeting him as if he was a hero. The Sorcerer watched, sneering. What fools! "Have your last hurrah," he said in a low and menacing voice. "You won't be cheering when I'm through with you and your precious halidom!"

After a muttered spell, the Sorcerer transported from the scene in a shower of magic.


Author's Note: First thing's first, I am in the middle of editing and improving this story, because I feel like it and because I can. The story will remain the same, but I'm being more concise about the details and making sure it's really worth reading this time! Edits made to this chapter: improved and streamlined sentence structure, improved descriptions.

Second, here's a paraphrase of my old author's notes: this is a story based created from some of my Outtakes from my drabble dump of Fire Emblem. The Avatar is Nykolai, my clumsy, impulsive idiot (his wife's words).

Here's hoping it's more enjoyable the second time around!


Originally Published 11/6/2013, Edited 3/21/2014